


Pretty

by GhostofBeltanesPast



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Plus-Size Reader, Porn with Feelings, Sentimental nonsense, takes place during the long dark, technically I guess this is a fade-to-black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofBeltanesPast/pseuds/GhostofBeltanesPast
Summary: "You’ve gotten good at wringing every bit of joy out of life, and with him there’s always plenty."---Reader is a schoolteacher, and former classmate of Prompto's living in Lestallum during the dark years. Together, they wait for their King to return.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own FFXV or any parts thereof, and I make no money from this fic.

You wake to nimble fingers trailing up your inner thigh, and open-mouthed kisses pressed along your neck and shoulder.  
  
Before your eyes are even open, you’re smiling. He’s insatiable as ever.   
  
You can feel his hardness against your hip, the way he tries to hold still but can’t help himself. It’s cute, really; even after all this time, he’s still sweet and silly and boyish in the best of ways. Even after more than nine years in the dark, he still shines so bright.   
  
His lips curve against your skin. “Good morning, beautiful.”   
  
You laugh.   
  
“Talking to yourself again? You weren’t _that_ lonely while I slept, surely…”   
  
You revel in the sight of him, messy blond mop tousled from sleep, reminiscent of when you’d first met so long ago. He’d been so soft and nervous then...but he’d gotten past it in time to make friends, unlike you.   
  
When you fled Insomnia as a refugee, you never thought you’d see any of your old classmates, much less Prompto. Life in Lestallum wasn’t easy, but you’d been in college to learn to teach when everything happened, and even a barely-started education put you ahead of most of the people who’d been left. And in the past few years, your little school had grown more and more, filling your time and heart as you tried to teach hope as much as facts and figures.   
  
But you’d never been all that much to look at, and you didn’t stand out in a crowd -- at least not in any ways you liked to think about. So you certainly didn’t expect him to remember you when he showed up in town.   
  
What a joke it had seemed like at the time, for him to greet you so brightly despite the shadow you could see in his eyes.   
  
You’ve learned better in the past few years, though; you may not be the King, but he loves you, too. And you’re here, now, to support him while everyone waits.   
  
Nine long years...you wonder sometimes how much longer it’ll be -- sometimes even talk to the King as if he were in the room, like being classmates again, if you’d ever had the courage to talk to a classmate so directly -- but you know it doesn’t matter. You’ll keep waiting and working alongside Prom until he returns…   
  
...and when he does, well. You’ll let go, with all the love in your heart, and wish him well. You know he’ll choose Noctis every time, and you walked into this relationship with your eyes wide open. It’s okay. As long as Noctis loves him like he deserves, you won’t ever argue.   
  
Right now, though, he’s in _your_ bed, lips pressed tenderly to your forehead as one hand skims your cheek, apparently too sentimental this morning to return the tease.   
  
That’s alright, though. You let your legs fall open further, inviting his touch. You can feel him twitch against you, hear the soft hiss under his breath...and you turn your head into his chest to suck a mark that should be barely visible above his collar.   
  
As needy as he is already, you can’t help but wonder if he’s been waiting long for you to wake…   
  
You tilt your head up for a kiss, first missing and catching his chin; you grumble, rubbing at your face slightly to banish the tickle, but he leans down to meet you halfway and it’s _good_ like every time is _good._   
  
Prompto is sunshine and fireworks and a flare showing the way. He’s bright and brilliant and every touch burns through you to your core.   
  
Every second is precious.   
  
But that’s the way it is, now, and that’s the way it’s been for nine years. You’ve gotten good at wringing every bit of joy out of life, and with him there’s always plenty.   
  
“Looks like you’ve got something for me, love…”   
  
He laughs against your lips and the sound is pure and warm and _perfect._ “Guess I do, huh?”   
  
He rolls on top of you, climbing between your thick legs with just as much care as ever; he doesn’t need to be so cautious, and you’ve told him that a dozen times in the last few months alone, but he always gives the same response. Just smiles at you so bright you can barely stand it, and tells you that you’re worth it.   
  
You’re _worth_ it.   
  
He reminds you of that a lot, as a matter of fact, an assurance you’re more than happy to offer in turn even if he does seem to need it less now than before.   
  
He’s gorgeously confident, now. You still don’t know how anyone could have overlooked him before, but these days nobody does. His admirers are everywhere, gaggles of young women (and men) eager to offer their thanks in whatever form he’ll take it.   
  
Sometimes you almost feel bad, that you have what they don’t...but you’re the one he chose. You’re the lucky bitch, and you’re not about to deny a gift like this.   
  
Most days he likes to spend time between your legs before he fucks you, licking and nibbling at your sensitive skin while he works two long fingers into you, knowing it’s just _barely_ not enough to get you over the edge. He likes to tease, when he has the patience, and you certainly don’t mind; the anticipation is good, and the pleasure is good, and his delight is _good_ .   
  
Today, though, it’s clear that he doesn’t have the patience. He rubs against you, cock sliding past your hole maddeningly -- you’re gratified to at least see his face contort, biting his lip in clear concentration as his hands tighten convulsively on your plush hips.   
  
“Can I?” he asks, voice trembling with desire, and making your heart swell with the words. Astrals, he’s always so good to you…   
  
You nod. “Please?” you ask in return, waiting for the answering smile.   
  
He leans forward...but he doesn’t push in, hands framing your face and pulling you into a tender kiss, instead. “Love you, Pretty,” he whispers against your lips.   
  
And just like always, the nickname does you in. No one had ever called you anything like that before; nobody you knew wanted a fat girl like you. They didn’t even count you as a girl most of the time, and the body hair that grew thick and dark everywhere you didn’t want only made things worse.   
  
It took a long time to accept, but he means it. Beautiful, perfect Prompto, the King’s treasured companion and best friend, thinks you’re pretty.   
  
You sniff back the tears and laugh. “C’mon, that’s not fair...I thought you were here to fuck me, not make me cry.”   
  
He kisses you again, your lips, and then your cheek, and then your forehead, before finally sitting back on his heels. “Nope…” he sighs, sounding for all the world like he couldn’t be more content.   
  
You stare.   
  
You must’ve heard him wrong, right?   
  
Before you can do more than laugh in disbelief, he continues earnestly. “I’m not here to fuck you, Pretty...I’m here to _make love_ to you.”   
  
You snort and roll your eyes, although the effect is ruined by the arm you throw up to cover your blushing face. It’s not fair that he can say things like that and make them sound appealing instead of ridiculous.   
  
He doesn’t pull your arm away; he knows you’ll stop hiding when you’re ready, when you’re not so overwhelmed, and he’s surprisingly patient.   
  
One hand twines itself with the one you’ve clenched in the sheets, pulling it up to kiss your wrist.   
  
“Ready?” He asks.   
  
You nod.   
  
With him, you’re ready for anything. He’s loved you for years, helped you open up, and everything you’ve ever trusted him with has stayed safe between the two of you.   
  
You couldn’t be more ready.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even have an excuse this time, y'all.
> 
> Here, have some uh. Sentimental lewds?


End file.
